


Almost

by Lisdangerous87



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Ativan, M/M, Near suicide attempt, Pills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2481962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisdangerous87/pseuds/Lisdangerous87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete almost does it, almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost

**Author's Note:**

> A fic requested by platypusearsmoo (and her impatient friend) on tumblr.

Pete can feel the heavy weight of the pills that are in the small orange bottle, buried deep within the pocket of his hoodie. He looks down at the well loved navy hoodie he had shrugged on. 

It was Patrick's hoodie. His best friend's hoodie. Pete looks around the vacant parking lot he is in, car running idly. 

It's not a Best Buy this time. 

His phone is ringing. He looks down at the screen, Patrick's name is glowing in front of the happy looking photo of Meagan and Bronx. 

Pete swallows, looking at the screen before sliding his finger over the ignore button. The screen goes black before a little bubble floats on it, letting him know he missed a call. He puts the phone gently back into the cup holder. 

His eyes find the ceiling of the SUV, and he sighs deeply. There's no music playing, it doesn't feel right. He always has music playing. The radio had been on about five minutes ago, up until he heard the familiar opening notes to 'My Songs...'. Then he quickly shut it off, slapping at the buttons to stop Patrick's voice from filling his ears and causing a sharp burn to begin in the corner of his eyes. 

He had been taking deep breaths for the past few minutes, before Patrick called him again. Pete's shaking finger hovered over the ignore button again, before he gave in to impulse and accepted the phone call. 

"Hello?"

"Hey Pete. How are ya?" Patrick asked, a slight nervous waiver in his tone. 

Pete swallowed drily before he tried to answer. "Hey. Um, I'm good how about you?"

Patrick sighs into the phone, a warm flush rolls over Pete's cheeks. He knows his best friend can see right through the lies he's just spun. 

He looks around into the darkness outside his car. He strains his deep brown eyes, trying to see if Patrick is nearby and is luring him into lying about his whereabouts. 

"Pete, are you busy right now? Can you come over? Or-" Patrick clears his throat as he voice catches on his last word. 

"Or I can come to you, if that's easier." Patrick adds on, clearly nervous. Pete picks up it instantly. 

He stays quiet for a moment. He glances down at the orange bottle again. He needs to do this tonight. Meagan is out with her parents and Ashlee has Bronx for the weekend. 

No one will wonder where he is. 

"Pete? Ya still there Petey?" 

Pete's deep breathing hitches on the juvenile name and he finds himself answering before the message of what kind of repercussions there will be has really reached his brain.

"I'll come to you. You're at your place?" 

Patrick is 'uh-huhing' as Pete is turning the key in the ignition. He hangs up and tries to stay calm as he rolls down the streets to Patrick's condo. 

If anyone else, anyone, had called him he would have just either ignored them or sputtered out some excuse as to why he was busy. 

But this was Patrick, not just anyone, not to Pete. 

Pete is bouncing on his toes as he rings the doorbell, hands stuffed into his/Patrick's pockets. He plays with the pills, spinning them within the cylindrical bottle. 

Patrick opens the door looking flustered. His dark red tshirt is clinging to him, a darkened patch beneath each armpit. 

The blonde's smile is shaky. His hair is flat in front, stuck to his forehead and sticking up on both sides. Pete thinks briefly about how many times Patrick fixed his hat upon his head before finally taking it off. 

Pete swallows before stepping into the opened doorway, Patrick standing silently, biting at his lips. Green eyes follow the older man closely, putting Pete slightly on edge. 

Pete jumps as Patrick closed the door and walks past him, rubbing at the back of his neck. He turns, walking backwards as he asks if Pete wants a beer. 

He begins to say no, he can't drink while he's taking his medication but then he laughs to himself. No point in following that anymore and he accepts Patrick's offer. 

Pete moves into the living room and sits, waiting for Patrick to return. When he does, Patrick pauses, beer slightly away from his body before he pulls it back close to him. 

Pete avoids eye contact, looking at anything but those eyes that seem to read him too well. He swallows and listens for Patrick to sit next to him on the couch before reaching forwards to set the beer down. 

"So, I think I better just get this over with now, not draw out the night. I don't think I can handle keeping this to myself anymore. It's really been bothering me." Patrick says, rubbing his hands together.

Pete is gnawing on his lip, scratching at his neck and staring at Patrick's black sneakers. -He knows-, he thinks to himself. 

"This, these thoughts of-of mine have been around for quite a while, and well, fuck." Patrick stops and wipes at his forehead, and sighs. "I'm really not good with words, you know that."

Patrick touches Pete's knee, making the older boy jump. The nearly full bottle of pills in his pocket makes an unmistakable rattle and Pete tenses, thinking Patrick's next words are going to be the same as everyone else's.

-I really care about you.-

Patrick stutters as he speaks, "I-I really care about you." 

Pete smirks, knowing the next thing he'll say. He moves his eyes to look into Patrick's, waiting for the next sentence that he knows is coming. -You're my best friend.-

Patrick smiles, not a full true smile, one that he wears for cameras when he's trying to hide how scared and nervous he really is. "You are my very best friend."

Patrick drops his eyes and gets quiet for a moment, seeming to struggle with his next sentence. 

Pete knows what is next. Talking about death, it's no surprise Patrick, his over sensitive Patrick, would have trouble talking about this. -I'm scared to lose you, please stop doing this, let's have you talk to someone.-

"I'm really quite nervous, as you can tell by the sheer volume of sweat I've produced. Actually more scared than nervous." Patrick nearly whispers. 

-Here it comes. Let's get you some help, I can't let you hurt yourself.- Pete thinks to himself. 

"I'm scared to tell you this, um, I don't really know how you'll react. I really kind of wish I just did this over the phone or something now." Patrick is stalling. 

Pete looks at Patrick with eyebrows raised, waiting for the words, that will make him lose his shit, to come.

"Somehow over the course of our friendship things kind of went further for me, I um, maybe sort of, kind of fell really hard for you." Patrick is blushing bright red, his neck beginning to change colors as well. 

Pete has lost the defensive expression he was wearing the second those words fell off of Patrick's lips. That was definitely not what he expected to hear. 

Patrick hasn't said a word more, waiting for some sort of reaction, hopefully a good one, to his admission. 

Pete blinks and whispers, "Are you fucking around on me? Or are you serious."

Patrick shakes his head, speaking just as quietly. "Dead serious. I love you, Pete. Really love you."

Patrick's staring at his hands when he denies that it is a joking matter. He looks up after a few moments, silence echoing throughout his living room, to see something he was not expecting. 

There are rivers of tears making their way down Pete's pink cheeks. He's biting his bottom lip and trying hard to not make a sound. Patrick can't help but feel let down. 

"Um," Patrick breaks the silence in a strangled voice, "That was not the reaction I was hoping for." He pulls back from Pete to slouch against the back of the couch, his body deflating from the adrenaline that had been flowing through him only moments before. 

He covers his hot face with his hands, breathing heavily through the cracks of his fingers. "Fuck," he whispers, "I fucked this all up. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry."

Patrick hears a shuffling and peeks through his fingers only to see Pete clambering to get over the large throw pillows and onto Patrick's lap. Patrick collects Pete in his arms, completely confused as to why Pete is now crying and hanging onto him for dear life.

"Pete? Fuck, did I really fuck up this badly?" Patrick mumbles into a mess of dark hair, tears of his best friend mixing in with his own sweat against his neck. 

Pete just clings harder, wrapping and unwrapping his fingers in the fabric of Patrick's shirt. Patrick rubs small circles on Pete's back, whispering hushes and letting his lips graze against Pete's ear. 

Pete's hiccuping cries die down as Patrick begins to press light kisses against his ear, barely making contact. Pete whispers, "I'm so sorry. I almost..."

Patrick pulls back a little, confusion evident on his face. Pete settles back so that he's straddling Patrick's legs, squatting over his lap. He's trying to wipe the tears away, but they just won't stop. 

Patrick wipes at them too and asks, "Why are you sorry? For almost what?"

Another moment passes before Pete moves his right arm into his pocket and pulls out the bottle of Ativan. Pete stares at the still full bottle and lets Patrick take it from him, turning the bottle in his hands as the younger boy tries to figure out what Pete is apologizing for. 

"I...I didn't know you were back on this. I figured after la-" Patrick's voice cracks and he tries to clear his throat before finishing his sentence, "last time, you'd stay away from these."

Pete's shoulders round as he slouches, embarrassment and nerves send waves of nausea through his stomach. 

It comes out in a whisper. "I almost killed myself before you called."

Patrick freezes.

He can't breathe as he frantically looks to Pete's eyes, silently wishing for this to be some kind of fucked up joke, but it's nowhere near April Fool's Day. 

A gurgled cry leaves his lips as he joins Pete in crying, a frantic hand trying to cover his mouth so no other noise can escape. Patrick's so overwhelmed with what could have happened, that he doesn't notice Pete is waiting for some sort of verbal acknowledgement that Patrick is glad it didn't happen. 

"Pete," is all the blonde can get out before he's sobbing harder pulling Pete into his chest, pressing salty kisses all over Pete's wet face. 

Pete collapses against his younger friend and let's himself be rocked and soothed as only Patrick can. Patrick begins alternating small pecks with "Oh Pete,"'s and Pete pulls harder on the back of Patrick's shirt. 

"I almost..." Pete trails off, pulling back and looking into his best friend's eyes. "I almost ended it because I couldn't take continuing on without having you the way I wanted. Without being able to say that I loved you and have you only chuckle in return," He pauses. 

"I love you, too. Since the moment I laid eyes on you. I knew I was screwed." Pete finishes. 

Patrick pulls Pete back in, grasping tightly at the hoodie that seems so familiar, and whispers, "I'm so glad you didn't almost. So glad."

Pete nods, he's really glad he didn't almost too.


End file.
